


IWSC Drabbles

by Janieohio



Series: IWSC Challenge Oneshots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brothers, Curse Breaking, Drabble Collection, Episode: The Mysterious Ticking Noise (Potter Puppet Pals), Gen, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Harry Potter Next Generation, IWSC, Internet, Late Night Conversations, Love, Portraits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieohio/pseuds/Janieohio
Summary: Drabbles written for the International Wizarding School Challenge over on FFnet. Some of these may someday see the light of day as longer stories, if there's interest (and the muses speak accordingly).
Series: IWSC Challenge Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614058
Kudos: 9





	1. The Space in Vault 5862

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Weasley, senior curse-breaker extraordinaire, was looking forward to an easy day at work. He should have known better.

"Weasley, you're needed in Vault 5862. Vault checks found unauthorized storage of an undetectable extension charm."

Bill Weasley had been filling in for one of his junior curse-breakers for the week and grinned at the idea of investigating a simple wizard space violation. It sounded like fun, actually.

Looking back, Bill Weasley realized that it was at this moment he should have first foreseen the surreal turn his day was about to take, as nothing in his line of work was ever simple. As it was, he didn't realize there was anything special about his unexpected assignment.

"Can I know the name of the vault owners? Is there any reason to expect anything dark?"

The goblin snarled. "There are always reasons to expect something dark, Weasley, that's why you have a job. I thought you'd be experienced enough by now to have learned that."

Bill refrained from rolling his eyes. It took a while to get used to working with the goblins, but he'd eventually learned how to tell when one was trying to joke. Goblins' senses of humour could be strange. "Of course, Ernok. However, some situations are more dangerous than others. Now, the vault owner?"

Ernok grunted. "Lovegood. Currently used by the daughter."

Bill smiled and relaxed. Later, he realized that this was the moment of his second mistake.

"Perfect. She's not dangerous. I'm sure it's a family heirloom or something else benign. I'll head down and check it out."

"You're authorized to have an assistant if needed. Shall I request anyone?"

And here, Bill pinpointed afterwards, was his third and most costly error.

"Not necessary. This vault shouldn't be a problem. I'll be back soon."

He grabbed his bag of tools out of habit, for which he was entirely grateful later, and made his way to the Lovegood vault. He thought about Luna, the young girl he'd watched grow alongside Ginny, and the young woman who was still one of his sister's closest friends. She'd recently gotten married, Ginny'd told him, to a magizoologist or something.

Reaching the vault, the goblin at the entrance nodded and opened the door. "Back right corner, third quadrant. I'll be sealing the door after you to prevent any problems from escaping, as protocol requires. You have your emergency portkey?"

Bill pushed down his irritation. "Of course. This isn't my first time. Now, please seal up and I'll see you in an hour."

The goblin grunted and the door sealed behind him. The torches lining the wall lit, giving Bill some little light to work off of as he approached the identified corner. The problem with undetectable extension charms, or wizard spaces as they were commonly referred to, was that absolutely anything could be in them. They could contain a few convenient items or entire mini-worlds. The goblins strictly forbid their storage inside Gringotts for this reason. They refused to be responsible for whatever was held inside.

The corner in question was darker than the others around it and held some furniture, a shelf of books, and a simple muggle duffle bag, similar to one he'd seen Ginny use to carry her Quidditch gear. He cast a few revealing spells and identified the bag as the source of the alarm.

Approaching cautiously, he _was_ a curse-breaker after all, he scanned for other spells, jinxes or curses that might be nearby. Finding everything clear, he hesitantly unzipped the bag and found darkness within. A memory of Luna Lovegood smiling at him erased any trepidation he might have been feeling, and he shined his wand into the bag.

Three steps met his eye, and he nodded, as this was not entirely unexpected. Toolbag still on his back, he began to step down into the duffle bag. The darkness did not fade right away, but by about the fifteenth step, he could see light ahead.

And then the light moved and began to approach him. Bill stopped on the eighteenth step and held out his wand, waiting to identify the light that now appeared to be flying in a circular pattern as it grew closer.

"Luna?"

The light stopped, then made a humming noise.

"Luna, it's Bill Weasley. Is that you?"

The humming sounded as though it were trying to form speech. "Lu-na."

That was not Luna Lovegood. Bill felt a moment of nervousness as the light slowly got closer. "Hello?"

"Lu-na."

Bill finally was able to make out the shape, or, well, creature, he supposed it was, but it was unlike any creature he'd ever seen. It seemed to be made of the light, and had a shape similar to a cat with no ears or tail, but with stubbier limbs and wings.

Bill remained calm. "No, I'm not Luna. I'm a friend of Luna's."

The creature looked at him and cocked its head. It gestured to Bill, then to itself. "Lu-na friend. Nar-gle."

It turned and retreated down the stairs, and Bill just shook his head and followed. What the hell was a nargle?

Reaching the bottom, the stairs levelled out into a huge area surrounded by what appeared to be a forest. The single creature he'd met on the stairs was now joined by a handful of its brethren, as well as several dozen other creatures he'd never seen nor read about in his life.

Bill caught his breath. Merlin, what had he gotten himself into?


	2. Concerning Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy Weasley doesn't always fit in with his family, but a little guidance from an older brother goes a long way to making it better.

"Perce? Mum said you were having trouble and asked if I could help you out?"

Percy Weasley looked up to see his oldest brother Bill standing in the doorway and smiled. Bill was the only person he ever let call him Perce, and the only person in the family that he felt truly understood him.

"Bill. Come in, but close the door, please. The twins are…" He paused, unsure of how to describe his younger brothers. He didn't want to complain, and he loved his brothers, but they were trying his patience.

"Yeah, no need to go on," Bill laughed. "I get it. So what was it that you needed help with?"

"It's this research I'm doing for the cauldron legislation. I'm attempting to put together comparison data between the different bottom thicknesses, but two of my cauldrons don't appear to be functioning correctly."

Percy watched Bill examine the work table, then pick up the notes meticulously detailed in neat script. He felt his stomach clench a little, hoping that Bill wouldn't begin to taunt him about his work like the others all seemed to do. He knew this wasn't exciting work, but it was important and his chance to prove himself.

"This is amazing work, Percy." Bill smiled. "I'm _really_ impressed. So, what's the problem?"

Percy swelled with pride at his brother's praise. "Each cauldron has varying bottom thicknesses—some standard, some not— and in each, I'm making a simple Calming Draught using the same ingredients and preparations."

Bill nodded, clearly following his logic and process. That was another reason Percy got on so well with Bill. He was smart in the same ways Percy was, and their brains worked in a similar manner. It made talking to him so _easy_. "So which two cauldrons are giving you the skewed results?"

"Cauldrons three and eight. When I add the peppermint to three, the peppermint begins to replicate repeatedly, and the entire room smells of it. The last time I actually found some Peppermint Imp candy pieces in the bottom. I've examined the cauldron several times, but I can't seem to find anything wrong."

Bill stepped over to the cauldron in question and prodded it, then took a couple of sniffs. "Hmph. And the other?"

"Cauldron eight." Percy approached it and scowled at the sludge within. "With this one, nothing abnormal happens until the final stir of the draught. At that point, the entire contents of the cauldron turn green and scaley. It's likely related to the crocodile heart, given the colour and texture, but as the same exact ingredient is used in all of the others…"

Bill furrowed his brow. "Do you mind if I try a few scanning spells? We both know this sounds like a prank that a couple of our younger brothers might try."

Percy smiled in relief. "Yes, please do. I've tried, but I'm sure a Curse-Breaker will have more skill at this than I."

Bill began moving his wand, muttering quietly and walking around the table to point at the same cauldron from different angles. He appeared to be getting more intrigued as the moments passed, then finally he threw his head back and laughed. "Bloody twins."

Percy sighed. This was why Bill wasn't only _his_ favourite brother, but the favourite of most of his siblings as well. He seemed to understand and appreciate them all for their own unique skills. He wished he could be like that, but his other brothers mostly just irritated him. Ginevra he understood, but the others— well, they were just so _different_.

Bill looked up. "Come here, Perce. Copy this wand movement." He traced an intricate pattern that reminded Percy of a drawing of rose petals. Percy imitated it, and Bill grinned. "Perfect. Now, the incantation is Subsecuta Ostenderet Occultatum, with the emphasis on the third syllable of each word. Try it." Percy repeated it exactly and Bill patted his shoulder companionably. "Okay, put it together and take a look."

Percy cast the revealing spell his brother has just taught him and saw the magical prank cast on the cauldron. It appeared to have an embedded Concentration spell that would turn a specific ingredient into a highly concentrated form, thus throwing off the potion.

"And the other?" Percy asked.

Bill walked to cauldron three and cast again, nodding. "Similar spell, but this one has an added element that is quite ingenious, actually. It's probably what is causing the confection to form. I'd wager it's likely a calming peppermint candy you found, given the ingredients of the rest of the draught. They should market this, really. It'd sell wonderfully for parents to give their anxious children."

Percy huffed. "Please don't encourage this behaviour, Bill. They've set my work back by at least a day. Why mother and father allow them—"

"Perce, stop. We each have our talents, and this is theirs. Let it go, please. I'll talk to them about leaving your work alone, I promise." He met Percy's eye as he removed the spells. "What you're doing here, it's important. I'm really proud of you, little brother."

Percy felt as though he were glowing with the praise. Bill had an amazing talent of correcting them while building them up. He missed him when he wasn't around.

"How long are you home?"

"Just through the World Cup. I'll see the kids off to Hogwarts, then I'm back to Egypt."

Percy knew his disappointment showed on his face, and his brother saw it too.

"I'm considering requesting a transfer back to London, though. Maybe at the end of the year, I'm thinking. Stick with it, Percy. You're doing great work."

Percy watched his brother leave the room and sighed, looking back to his notes. He supposed he might as well start this round of tests again from the beginning. Casting a vanishing charm on the contents of all the cauldrons, he got back to work.


	3. That Ticking Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitting in the Headmistress's office, James Sirius Potter is awaiting his fate from his latest prank, and the ticking of the clock won't leave him alone. What could that Mysterious Ticking Noise be, and why does it remind him of something? Drabble, Crack-fic of sorts. (Yes, it's THAT Mysterious Ticking Noise.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story should probably be classified as crack fiction, if anything. It's silly, and if you've never seen The Mysterious Ticking Noise on YouTube (by Potter Puppet Pals), you should probably stop reading, go watch it, then come back... otherwise, this story will be a little strange for you (and you'll be missing out on some classic HP fun). However, I'm assuming that as you've come so far as to read and/or write fanfiction, you're likely already familiar with this video.
> 
> Click here to watch, if you need:  
> [The Mysterious Ticking Noise](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tx1XIm6q4r4)  
> 

James Sirius Potter is in trouble. Again. It's not a new experience, sitting in the Headmistress's office, but while he's a little apprehensive, he's mostly just bored.

He glances to his cousin Fred, sitting in the chair next to him, and wonders if Professor McGonagall will let them talk while they wait on their parents. He looks to the Headmistress sitting at her desk writing something in a book—his long list of prior punishments, perhaps—then decides it's better he doesn't test her today. He _really_ doesn't want extra detentions.

He sits as quietly as he knows how, listening to the clock on the wall tick away the seconds until his parents arrive and he learns his fate. Tick… Tick… Tick…

Something about that ticking noise tickles his memory, the tendrils of familiarity wrapping their way through his brain. It makes him want to giggle, but he's not sure why. Tick… Tick…

Suddenly it hits him, and he sits back, trying to contain his grin at the memory.

It had been last summer that he'd first heard it. He'd been keeping an eye on Hugo for Aunt Hermione while she was out, and Rose and Albus were playing around on Rose's laptop in her bedroom. Albus always seemed to want to mess with that thing when he was over, since their own house didn't hook into the Muggle amenities like his Aunt and Uncle's did.

James had been helping Hugo with his summer Transfiguration homework when he heard squeals of glee coming from upstairs.

"Oh, Merlin! No freaking way. This can't be real, can it?" Al's voice rose above his cousin's raucous laughter.

"James! Hugo! Get in here! You just _have_ to see this!"

James rolled his eyes and smiled at Hugo, reaching out to ruffle his smaller cousin's bright red curls. "Another cat video, you reckon?"

Hugo laughed. "Nah, this is Rose and Albus. It's probably some boring science experiment or something."

"Come on!" came Rose's voice this time, sounding slightly hysterical.

James stood and followed Hugo toward Rose's room. As he entered the room—a ridiculously unsuitable bedroom for a teenaged girl, in his opinion, being completely lined in books and resembling a library more than anything else—he noticed his younger brother nearly falling off his chair, wiping tears from his green eyes in laughter.

"Hey, come on, I'll start it over. This is _perfect_. Evidently some Muggleborn and their friends made this and put it on the internet. Watch."

James rolled his eyes, prepared to be irritated at being dragged in to see it. The video started to play and focused on a homemade puppet show stage, while ridiculous music played that he already found annoying. Then, a ticking noise began, and the strangest looking puppet appeared. James's jaw dropped as he realised what he was seeing.

"Merlin," he muttered. Then sat back and watched the rest in amazement and glee.

In the week following that fateful day, they'd shown all their cousins and aunts and uncles. His mother had thought it was the best thing she'd ever seen and proceeded to taunt his father with it for days.

It's been nine months since that day, though, and he realises he'd nearly forgotten it.

Tick… Tick… Tick… McGonagall's clock won't leave him alone. Tick… Tick…

Finally, James can no longer resist. Feeling a moment of weakness rush over him, he glances to Fred and mutters in a low voice, "What is that mysterious ticking noise?"

Fred snorts, obviously catching his reference.

James waits a few more moments, then looks up at a small portrait on the wall behind McGonagall. It's not nearly as large as the other past Headmasters' and Headmistresses', but it's one that James has had reason to notice before, with its greasy hair and hooked nose. "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape."

McGonagall looks up sharply. "Excuse me, Mr Potter? Did you say something?"

James smothers his laugh and shakes his head, and she goes back to her writing.

Tick… Tick…

He can't take it another minute. "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape."

Fred jumps in. "Dumbledore."

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, that will be quite enough!"

James knows he should stop, but he just can't. It's just too good, and now both Snape and Dumbledore's portraits are watching them with raised eyebrows. James has never been able to say no to an audience.

"Snape, Snape, Severus Snape."

Fred moves on, and James is reminded why Fred has always been his favourite cousin. "Ron, Ron, Ron Weasley. Ron, Ron, Ron Weasley!"

Snape's portrait has now started making loud, vocal complaints to McGonagall, adding to the overall din and confusion, and Dumbledore's portrait has raised his wand and begun conducting the boys, moving his head back and forth to the beat.

Feeling encouraged, and honestly, just not able to help himself, James keeps going until he sees the flash of green out of the side of his eye, indicating the arrival of someone in the floo. James is mid-"Hermione" in the song as his mother and father step through the fireplace.

And his mother—Merlin, he loves his mother—gives him a grin and joins in with perfect timing, elbowing his red-faced father in the chest. "Harry Potter, Harry Potter, yeah, Harry Potter."

Evidently, McGonagall reaches her limit because she yells in a frightening tone of voice that James has never heard her use in his six years of schooling, "Enough!"

The room falls silent. Then he hears it again. Tick… Tick… Tick…

His mother snorts. "It's the clock, Minerva. Sorry, I'll explain later." She looks at her son, and the grin fades. "Now, James Sirius Potter, what on _Earth_ did you do to the Slytherin Quidditch team? You will answer me right now, young man." She glances to his cousin. "And don't think you're free here, Fred. Your parents are on their way. Now _talk_."

James sighed. Time to come clean, evidently. At least it was fun while it lasted.


End file.
